


Never Far

by AceOfFates



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 01:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20024035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceOfFates/pseuds/AceOfFates
Summary: The road stretches out before and behind them, seemingly forever; the sky an ocean’s worth of stars unimpeded by city lights. Roxas moves his hand to the centre console, palm up and Sora easily slips his hand on top. He watches the fields rush by until they turn to farmland dotted with the sleeping forms of animals and then to small town streets; yellowed lamps illuminating the quiet night.--Sora and Roxas on a road trip going anywhere.





	Never Far

The long grass bows in the breeze, springing up on either side of the long country road. The world around them is illuminated in a soft blue, bathed only in the light of the moon. They’ve been driving for hours, the radio off in favour of listening to the wind rush by the open windows. Sora rests his arm on the ledge, sticking his hand out and feeling the air on his hands.

In the driver’s seat Roxas only has one hand on the wheel. Leaning back easily, eyes watching the road unwaveringly. He’s always completely focused when driving, precise in a way Sora can’t master. He seems to sense Sora staring and shifts his gaze to look at him briefly and say, “how much longer?”

Sora turns on his phone, squinting at the blinding change in light before it dims again, and pulls up the map. “Twenty-seven minutes,” he says. Roxas nods and returns to staring out the windshield.

The road stretches out before and behind them, seemingly forever; the sky an ocean’s worth of stars unimpeded by city lights. Roxas moves his hand to the centre console, palm up and Sora easily slips his hand on top. He watches the fields rush by until they turn to farmland dotted with the sleeping forms of animals and then to small town streets; yellowed lamps illuminating the quiet night.

They find a small hotel, the lobby clean and empty save for the lone employee who is scrolling idly through her phone. She flirts easily with Roxas a little, making Sora smile because who  _ wouldn’t _ fall in love with him at first sight, then blanches when they order a room with only one bed. Roxas waves off her embarrassment in the same easy manner he reassures Sora whenever he stumbles over his feet or words and Sora smiles at her and says she has good taste.

Sora falls face first into the bed the instant he can with his overnight bag still clutched in one hand. Roxas pats the back of his calf while saying he’s going to go shower. The pipes groan before he hears the stutter of water rushing out of the showerhead which turns into a steady flow. Sora flips over and stares up at the ceiling, white stucco, then at the room itself: there’s a tv on the opposite side of the bed with a painting of a cliffside overtop. The walls are a creamy yellow turned dark green in the low night light. Standard hotel fare. They’ve been in dozens of other rooms like it.

Roxas exits the bathroom, rubbing a towel in his hair and wearing another one around his waist. He raises an eyebrow when he sees Sora’s still awake. Sora shrugs and goes back to looking at the ceiling. He thinks he can almost see a rough outline of Donald and Goofy in the stucco.

“Go shower,” Roxas says and the bed dips where he sits down on the opposite side.

“Don’t wanna,” Sora says back stubbornly, sticking out his tongue even if Roxas can’t see. Unceremoniously, he’s shoved off the bed and into a heap on the floor so he decides to take Roxas’ advice after all.

When he comes back Roxas is asleep; all the bed sheets have been shoved over to Sora’s side. He often overheats in the summer heat, preferring to sleep on top of the blankets while Sora piles unnecessary amounts of blankets on top of himself to stay comfortable. Regardless, when Sora climbs into bed Roxas will let him snuggle up to his side and even shift to throw an arm over Sora’s torso.

They almost miss the free hotel breakfast, barely making it down into the tiny room at nine forty AM. There’s a selection of bagels, beverages and even a waffle maker in the corner that Sora beelines towards. Roxas rolls his eyes and wordlessly begins making them both a cup of coffee. Roxas is already eating a bagel with cream cheese by the time Sora’s managed to make two waffles- which he completely drowns in the available syrup. They read the local newspaper, which reports that the local sunflower maze is open.

Roxas scrunches his face up when they arrive. “Why would you need to farm sunflowers?” he asks as they wait in the admission line, surrounded by screaming children and their tired parents.

Sora points over to the shop, roughly ten metres away, and says, “sunflower seeds?”

Roxas scowls and doesn’t say anything further and Sora laughs while they enter the maze. It’s relatively basic, easy to navigate, but the stalks of the sunflowers reach high above them into the sky; heads pointed towards the blazing sun. Sunlight streams through the stems and illuminates Roxas’ hair like a golden crown. When they exit, Sora goes through the gift shop and buys them a bulk bag of sunflower seeds.

They head back into town and wander the brickwork streets. There’s an antique shop that Sora insists they go into and he spends almost the entire time chatting with the shop owner, asking about various items and the stories behind them. They’re talking about an intricately carved mirror frame when Roxas comes up behind him, hooking his chin on Sora’s shoulder and says, “look what I found.”

It’s an ornamental key that the shopkeep tells them he doesn’t know the origin of but it’s at least one hundred and fifty years old. It’s a tarnished silver, the bow is decorated with a pair of small delicate wings and the bit is small and rectangular. Sora buys it in an instant and hooks it onto his backpack- adding to a growing collection of keys that aren’t functionally useful but look pretty. None of them are  _ right _ but that’s okay, it’s close enough.

They get ice cream in the town square and spend more time than strictly necessary just watching people go about their lives. Sora makes up little stories, pointing at people with his tiny spoon to narrate their days. Roxas listens raptly, bumps his shoulder against Sora’s and stays there; pressed together from ankles to shoulders.

The sun has begun its descent, casting long shadows across the sidewalks and buildings. A car passes by, causing the shadows to shift and Sora jumps involuntarily, the instinct still too strong to fight, but loses his footing on the uneven brickwork.

“C’mon, we’re only a block away,” Roxas says, hauling Sora up by the elbows and smiling fondly at him. He lets Sora lean into him more than he needs, feigning serious injury just to be closer to Roxas. He’s quiet when they get back, wordlessly wetting a cloth to clean the shallow cuts.

“Cura,” he says while sticking a large band aid across Sora’s left knee. The word does nothing, of course, but it’s become a routine. Just in case.

Sora stares down at Roxas then twists to look out the balcony doors. Outside the sky is orange and purple, the last remnants of sunset. Beyond this little farming community is endless roads and possibilities. Endless choices on where they could go next. Towards the mountains? Or perhaps towards the coastline where the jagged cliffs won’t remind Sora of long white sand beaches. Further and further away until the place where they started isn’t even a spec on the horizon of his memories.

Wrapped in the warm summer night, Roxas holds Sora in his arms. Facing each other like closed parenthesis, Roxas has one foot hooked around Sora’s ankle. He tries to close his eyes, block out the noise in his head and heart to no avail. A clock ticks quietly on the other side of the room, each second counting another heartbeat.

“Do you wanna go back?” Sora asks eventually, fully expecting Roxas to be asleep.

“Do you?” Roxas asks back, his voice a sleepy rumble and his breath warm against Sora’s scalp.

Sora considers this for a moment. Thinks about friends and the feeling of something always just at his fingertips. He thinks about goodbyes and things he took for granted because he thought they’d always stay the same. He thinks about Roxas who said yes without hesitation when Sora suggested they go on a road trip with no destination and no time limit. He thinks about the changing landscapes that they pass through, morphing seamlessly around them, and the way he thinks his heart has changed- isn’t  _ done _ changing.

“Not yet.”

“Me neither, then.”

“If you want to-” Sora starts because he feels guilty, sometimes. He doesn’t know exactly what Roxas is feeling anymore. Not like he used to. Can only know that Roxas doesn’t like sour foods by the way his face bunches up, that he likes to sit quietly in the sun by the way he closes his eyes and leans into Sora’s shoulder. That he loves Sora by how he sought out an antique key in a cluttered small town store because he knew it’d make Sora happy.

Roxas huffs out a small laugh, saying sweetly, “we’ll go back when you’re ready, okay?”

“Okay,” Sora whispers into Roxas’ chest; who pulls him in even closer, pressing a kiss into his forehead and Sora knows there’s an unspoken, “even if that’s never.”

Tomorrow they’ll get back in their car, Sora driving this time, and will head out to a new destination. Somewhere different to explore. Another place to leave some memories, a faint impression on the folks they’ll meet and never see again. The keys on Sora’s backpack will jingle, the words they utter when the car’s air conditioning isn’t enough won’t change the world around them anymore. Sora grips the wheel like a vice out of habit, hands tightening around it like it’s a weapon. Once on a long, straight stretch of road Roxas will gently pry Sora’s left hand off the wheel so they can hold hands, always too understanding to say anything.

They’re wandering away, always away, but never far from home. Not as long as they have each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by something the wonderful freecure wrote on her dreamwidth account! Check out her writing if you haven't already ❤️


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